Killer || muke

t w e n t y - t w o

so I'm american and that means I don't know English laws so I'm gonna make the laws american in england whoo rebel

if you have any law questions ask meeeee

keep in mind that I am not a lawyer alright so this sucks

》Michael

》》Two months after Number Eight's murder

The courtroom was packed. Media, regular people, family of the victims' - all in the same room to see me.

Well, not really see me, just see the last part of my trial. To see the serial killer that's been haunting London finally get the "justice" he deserves.

The one person that I do want to see isn't even here. Is he allowed to be here? His parents probably don't want him to watch the trial of his murder happy ex-boyfriend. That could be slightly depressing.

My faded lilac hair stood in all directions and eye bags drooped prominently from my dull eyes. My tongue swiped across my chapped lips as I folded my hands together, watching the prosecutor pace in front of me.

She turned her head, her piercing blue eyes chilling me to my very core. They were almost an unreal blue; so bright that you would think they were colored in with a marker. She (I think her name is Casey?) pursed her lips before speaking.

"Do you believe you're insane, Michael?"

I bit my lip. My attorney warned me about this question. I know I'm not insane, but this is just my defense. An insanity defense can be such bullshit, but it might be the one thing that will bring me back to Luke.

Truth be told, I may be going insane. I haven't seen Luke in two months. No form of contact has been initiated between either of us - no visits or phone calls. I'm not even sure we are a couple anymore. If we ever were.

It seems stupid that I'm worrying about my relationship status when there is a life sentence hanging over my head like a thick cloak, choking all of my thoughts.

I hated admitting it, but I answered. "I have Borderline Personality Disorder."

The clicking of cameras was deafening.

"So you do believe you're insane?" Casey continued.

"Objection. Where are we going with this line of questioning? Ms. Novak is badgering my client." My attorney, Mrs. Pond, interrupted.

I didn't feel like she was badgering me, but, hey, if it gets to a different question then I'd like that.

"I'm questioning the defendant in total relation to his defense. If he doesn't believe he's insane, the defense shouldn't be allowed."

"Objection overruled. Answer the question, Michael." Judge Moredock directed to me. I nodded to the older man, suddenly feeling as if my tie was choking me.

"Yes." I lied. Short answers.

"So if you claim to be insane, why did you refuse treatment at the mental health facility your mother and father tried to leave you in?"

"Objection! Relevance?" Mrs. Pond seemed outraged, but I was only shocked as to how she would know that. Who would even tell her that? The only person that could ever know that was my father.

"I have no more questions for this witness." Casey cut off the judge, taking a seat behind the solid table. Mrs. Pond stood, buttoning the bottom button of her coat. I shifted in my seat.

"We have established that you have BPD. Do you understand what that is?" She asked, the glint in her eyes telling me that she wants me to get frustrated. Wants me to throw a fit.

"I have impulse issues, I'm not stupid." I spat. She nodded, walking slowly in front of the witness box I sat in.

"All of your murders - they're premeditated, right? You come prepared?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell us how you pick your victims?"

"I look for the sad ones. The one walking the street with the heavier steps or the droopier shoulders. I'm putting them out of their misery."

"Your first victim - Jennette Simmons. How did you pick her?" I'd told Mrs. Pond this story a thousand times, and I hated repeating it, but the jury need to hear it.

"I saw her in a little bistro. She was crying in a booth, her hair soaking wet from rain. I bought her a coffee and asked her why she was upset."

"And why was she?"

"She found her boyfriend of four years cheating on her with a man."

"Okay. Continue."

"I offered her a ride home after a while and I.. killed her." I scanned the crowd behind the counsel's desks and saw a middle aged woman weeping, gripping her husband's suit. I assumed they were Jennette's parents.

Mrs. Pond nodded, her steps coming to a halt in front of me.

"People with BPD find it hard to keep a stable, healthy relationship with somebody. When was your last relationship?"

"I don't know." Which is true. I don't know when it was. Luke and I were a relationship. I think. Does he count?

"How long was your longest relationship?" She asked.

Someone from the jury coughed as I answered. "Two months I think."

"That's a bit short for a relationship, don't you think?"

"I guess." I said shrugging my shoulders.

"Let me ask you this, Michael. Do you feel any remorse for the victims?" Her hard eyes set in mine and I think I shivered.

Lie for Luke. "Yes. Except one."

"Which one?"

"Number eight. He tried to rape my... Friend."

"So it was an act of defense for your friend?"

"Yes."

She nodded, her heels clicking as she made her way back to the defense table. "The defense rests."

--

THIS IS A REALLY BAD CHAPTER DONT SAY ANYTHING OMFG

listening to iggy azalea while writing this and murda bizness came on I'm giggling

idk I'm gonna start talking about a sequel now bc there is only like 3 chapters left or something

but how would you feel about a sequel

ITS JUST AN IDEA OKAY bc i really love writing this and I don't want it to end

but it would be cashton and stuff

idk

just a thought bye

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-Katie